


dogs days are over

by Fictionalistic



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-25
Updated: 2013-06-25
Packaged: 2017-12-16 03:27:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/857232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fictionalistic/pseuds/Fictionalistic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alana Bloom isn't really a dog person.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dogs days are over

**Author's Note:**

> Accidental comment fic for this: http://fictionalistic.tumblr.com/post/53828200095/tumblebuggie-wheres-daddy-graham-gone-in
> 
> I couldn't be bothered to edit this because my first reaction to writing this was: "Why?" 
> 
> And then, "Why not?" 
> 
> Apologies in advance! Major apologies for the title.

Alana isn’t really a dog-person. Whenever she’s had pets in her life, they’ve only ever been cats and the occasional goldfish. Not at the same time, of course. Well, there was that one time, but it was the first and last. Give her a break - she was  _eight_.

When she takes in Will’s dogs -  _all_  of the fluff-butts, oh god, her carpet’s  _fucked_ \- she expects them to take over her house. She expects anxiety-induced chewing of furniture, panicked barking, whining in the middle of the night.. Not that they’ve ever been anything less than dog-mannerly when she’s visited Will’s place. But she expects it because Will won’t be there, and she’s thinks - rather irrationally, really - that maybe the dogs suspect that he won’t be there again. Maybe.

Instead, they’re quiet. Subdued. When she pets them (and apparently you can’t pet  _just_  one - all or nothin’, baby), they whine quietly in the backs of their throats and snuffle and rumble contentedly, and bark alertly when someone’s at her door because they’re still  _dogs_. But they’re less.. perky. Happy, or whatever. They’re glad enough, she supposes, to have a dry place to live and food and water. They just don’t light up in the way that dogs do in the presence of their person. Alana is decidedly not their person. That doesn’t mean they don’t cuddle up to her or object to her freely-given affection, but they just - they’re not  _perky_ , okay? As a first-time dog  ~~owner~~  caretaker, it’s a mild concern. 

So when she visits Will in a non-psychiatric capacity, she asks about the dogs. Or lets him inquire after them. It’s a subject she enjoys because it’s safe. Very safe. She asks about each individual dog’s quirks. 

“Winston - is there any reason why he sticks to you like glue when the front door’s left open?”

“That’s uh.. heh, that’s just Winston.”

“Mm, okay,  _that_  explains it.”

“Actually, one time…”

She likes that talking about his dogs makes Will laugh a little. Smile a little, smooth away the tight lines that have developed across his forehead. 

And when she returns home from one of those visits, she’ll invite the smallest of the dogs up on the couch with her and let the larger dogs rest their heads on her knees.

For a while, they’re all quiet together.


End file.
